Uncharted: The Lost Treasure of Tierra del Fuego
by mindtakerr
Summary: In June of 1999, Victor Sullivan and his young protege, Nathan Drake, find a journal that seems to dispel what history knows about Magellan's trip around the world. Can the two of them find out what really happened during that voyage in the early 16th century?
1. (Don't) Forget Paris

**Author's note:** I've had the idea for this story and various drafts of it written for almost a year now. After revising and releasing some chapters, it also happens that Uncharted 4 just came out. It's amazing, of course, and I've already finished it. Quite by accident, a lot of the elements from my story (including elements related to the ending) have ended up being very similar to Uncharted 4. In an effort to not look like I'm just copying that game, I'll have to revise some parts and chapters may come more slowly.

Thank you to everyone who has read and continues to read this story. I hope you are enjoying my small take on the greatness that Naughty Dog has achieved from such small beginnings.

* * *

June 1999

Paris, France

* * *

"And that proves it, Sully!" Nathan Drake motioned toward a centuries-old journal being displayed through a plexiglass viewing case. "Ferdinand Magellan was in Chile much longer than he let on!"Although he was only twenty-three years old, Nate was wise beyond his years and already an expert treasure hunter.

The man to his right ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, looking intently at the dusty old book. "Are you sure, Nate? It could be a fake."

Nathan Drake smiled at Victor Sullivan—his long-time friend and mentor—and nodded confidently. "The Maritime Museum of Paris does not put forgeries on display. The date on that journal is dated December 1520, two weeks after Magellan was supposed to have left Punta Arenas. This is a huge find! I just love it when history is wrong."

"I only love it when it means we get paid."

Nate traced his fingers methodically along the outside of the viewing case, feeling it out for weaknesses. This would not be the first time he had lifted something from a national museum, but that did not mean that he could be any less careful.

Sully felt uneasy as well. "Be careful, Nate! Have you forgotten what happened in Kyoto?"

"We were out of that prison in only a few days; lighten up!" Nate paused as a smirk formed on his lips. "Ah ha! There it is."

Nate had gently unlocked the case and slid the plexiglass cover off of the exhibit, handing it to Sully. The diary was in his hands almost immediately, and he didn't even trigger the alarm. He slowly managed to place the journal into his shoulder bag. Sully nodded nonchalantly toward the security guard that happened to be walking by at that moment. Sully gently replaced the plexiglass and Nate spun around on his feet to block the guard's view of what was now an empty display.

"Boy, that Ferdinand Magellan sure did do some exploring, huh?" Nate wasn't always the best with words.

Sully rolled his eyes, but at least it had been enough to keep the guard from becoming wise to their exploits.

After the guard moved along on his patrol, Nate and Sully made a quick dash for the door. Once the authorities had realized what happened, and alarms went off inside the museum walls, they were already driving away, making for Charles de Gaulle Airport. It was a clean getaway; that's the way they liked it.

* * *

It was unnaturally hot for a Paris day in June, and sweat was beginning to bead on Nate's brow. He wiped it off as he and Sully boarded their plane. They had paid a small fortune for their tickets, but it was worth it to know that they could now fly non-stop from Paris to Santiago. As they got settled in their seats, Sully was ready to discuss their next steps. "So, we know that Magellan landed in southern Chile—in the area now known as Punta Arenas—during his journey around the world, but what's so significant about that?"

Nate had been thinking about that very thing for quite some time. "I don't think Magellan would have stayed that extra time in Punta Arenas if he didn't have a good reason. Think about it, Sully; he must have stayed longer, but not revealed this information to his patrons in Spain. There is absolutely nothing recorded from Magellan in the time between he claimed to have landed in Punta Arenas in November 1520, and when he arrived in Guam on March 3, 1521. Why wouldn't Magellan write anything about that part of the voyage? That's almost five months, Sully!"

"What's so important that he would need to keep secret from the King of Spain?"

"I have a thought," Nate began. "Do you know what happened in that area during the late nineteenth century?"

Sully was clearly beginning to piece things together. He didn't have nearly the knowledge of history that his protégé possessed, but there were some things that he studied quite significantly. "The Tierra del Fuego region had a gold rush. You think Magellan found gold there, hundreds of years earlier?"

"Yes, I do, and if he had taken it back to Portugal or Spain, it would have probably been found by now." Nate held up the journal and motioned with it towards Sully. "With this, we can figure out where (and maybe even why) he left these riches in Chile."

For the first time during the trip, Sully was fully on board with Nate's antics, "So what do we do once we get to Santiago?"

"I have a buddy in the Chilean Air Force," Nate answered, "He has agreed to fly us from Santiago to Punta Arenas, and we will be able to land on the Air Force strip, away from prying eyes. Just trust me, Sully."

"Kid, those are the scariest words in the English language."


	2. It's Chile in Here!

After over a half a day in the air, the Boeing 747 carrying Nathan Drake and Victor Sullivan finally made its descent to Comodoro Arturo Merino Benítez International Airport in Santiago, Chile. Nate had been too excited to sleep, and the dark rings under his eyes were staunch evidence of that. Sully, on the other hand, looked refreshed and ready to go. Having crossed the equator, it was quite an adjustment to leave the hot summer and immediately enter the cool winter.

They slipped some light jackets on that they had wisely packed in their carry-on bags, and they exited the jet to locate a map of the airport. They found one and studied it for a moment. Nate pointed at a certain location at the edge of the map.

"Captain Muñoz is supposed to meet us on this airstrip," Nate began, "He's rented a biplane that we can take from here to Punta Arenas. These light jackets are good, but the temperature is likely to drop twenty degrees or more before we arrive in Punta Arenas. We will need to dress appropriately."

Sully was not listening, nor did he really need to. He was content to let Nate take control every now and again, especially when the situation did not appear to be all that dangerous. "Right, right. Let's get going."

The two of them made their way to the small runway where the small plane was waiting. Captain Muñoz waved as they approached. "Mr. Drake" he called with a thick Chilean accent, "it is so pleasant to see you again!"

"Likewise. Captain Muñoz, this is my closest confidant, Victor Sullivan."

"It's an honor to meet fellow military. US Navy retired. The country of Chile owes you a debt of gratitude for your service."

"And so do we," Nate added, "I cannot tell you how much we appreciate you flying us to Punta Arenas. It would have been really tough to get there as a civilian."

"Well, I owe you one after what you did for me in that jungle outside Buenos Aires. After this, I will call us rectangle."

Sully looked at him with a look of utter confusion. "You mean square," Nate corrected.

"Oh yes. Square. Very good."

Nate studied the area for a moment. The landing strip was empty except for a few cardboard boxes filled with various bits of small cargo. It seemed like this was the kind of place that small aircraft would take off, maybe carrying some light supplies. The bigger cargo planes obviously would have used a different area of the airport. After awkwardly standing around, Nate spoke up. "Well, are we ready to go?"

"Almost," answered the captain. "Mr. Sullivan, if you could, please grab the box over there marked K-238."

Sully didn't expect much from it, and so he lifted the box incorrectly, straining his back. "Geez. It's heavy."

Captain Muñoz flipped the top of the cardboard box open, allowing Sully to peek inside. There was enough of an arsenal in there to equip a small army. "Holy shit, Captain Muñoz, what do you think we're going to run into down there, a platoon of crabs armed to the teeth?"

The captain laughed. "Oh my, you are a man of funny, Mr. Sullivan! No, these are not for you. I've got to drop these off later to equip a small army." He grabbed two pea shooters that he had stashed in an overhead compartment on the plane. "These are for you two."

Nate shrugged. "Well, I guess that makes sense."

Nate helped Sully slide the box into the cargo hold. Sully arched his back to stretch out the pain. "Damn it, that was painful."

Captain Muñoz flipped some switches and the jet engines whirred to life. He began to ease the jet down the runway. "Is everyone ready?"

"Punch it, Chewie!" said Sully.

The captain turned around. "Who is Chewie? Please address me as Captain Muñoz."

Nate tried to explain. "Well, he's sort of this giant bear type thing that hangs around with Han Solo. You know, from _Star Wars_."

"Ah. All right. I have not seen that film."

"Blasphemy!" exclaimed Sully. He knew that there was a bit of a language barrier with the captain, so he tried to say it in a way that it was clearly a jest.

The plane began to slowly lift off the ground. "Speaking of _Star Wars_ , that new one just came out! I can't wait to go see it."

"I don't know, Nate. It's getting some pretty bad reviews."

"It's _Star Wars_. How could it be bad?"

* * *

The biplane pulled safely down onto the small runway at Carlos Ibáñez International Airport in Punta Arenas. Captain Muñoz was immediately met by armed forces personnel, but he was waved through when he produced his credentials. Nate could hear him speaking in Spanish to his fellow soldiers. He was overly tired, so he didn't bother to try and translate the conversation. He did notice that one of the people in the conversation did not appear to be Chilean, though.

While they were talking, Nate and Sully jumped out of the plane. The air outside was frigid; Nate shivered in his small jacket as he surveyed the airport. "Holy crap; it's cold out here."

"What do you expect, kid? We're only 800 miles from Antarctica, and it's winter here."

"I think I preferred the overly hot summer of Paris."

"I prefer the overly hot women of Paris."

"Sully, your charm is so subtle."

Clouds were forming overhead, and the sky was turning dark. Captain Muñoz saw his friends shivering and came over to offer his help. "Mr. Drake, Mr. Sullivan, I have some parkas in the plane if you think they would be helpful."

Nate nodded frantically. "Dear God, yes. Please."

The captain slid the parkas out from a makeshift closet in some compartment of the plane. He presented them to Nate and Sully who accepted them graciously.

" _Muchas gracias_!" said Sully, trying and failing to employ a Hispanic accent.

"I saw you speaking to some soldiers," Nate began, "is everything all right?"

"Oh, yes. Everything is fine, but I've just been called back to active duty. My commanding officer is requesting me to meet up with my group in Concepción."

"That's a goddamn shame that you won't be able to join the hunt with us," said Sully.

Captain Muñoz waved to the non-Chilean that Nate had noticed before. He then motioned for the man to come join them. "Nathan Drake? Victor Sullivan? This is Alistair Walker."

The other man was incredibly overdressed for the occasion. His perfect hair, complete with frosted tips, was set into place with a pound of mousse and hairspray. He wore dark sunglasses that were more expensive than Nate's entire wardrobe. His black Armani suit was perfectly pressed, and immaculately fitted. He was as stark of a contrast between Nate and Sully as you could get. Even so, he extended his hand first. "A pleasure," Alistair said, speaking with a bit of a British accent.

Sully lit a cigar and stuck it in his mouth. He then shook the hand that was offered him. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Walker. If you don't mind, what's that accent I detect? Liverpool?"

"Not bad, Mr. Sullivan. Manchester, actually, but you're very close. Although, now I reside in Chicago."

"Ahh, the Windy City, eh? And, please, it's Sully."

"Nate. Good to meet you."

"Sully, Nate, you can call me Al."

Nate laughed. "Are you going to call me Betty?"

Alistair shook his head. "Everyone always makes that joke whenever I say that, or, at least, some version of that joke."

Nate shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, man, don't blame me. Blame Paul Simon."

"If I ever meet the man, I intend to."

"All right, all right, enough bullshitting about 80's music," Sully pleaded.

Captain Muñoz was definitely out of his element, so he appreciated Sully's request. "Anyway, the reason I brought Al here is so that he could join you on your trip in my stead. He knows Punta Arenas quite well, and he probably has some ideas of where you guys might want to look for… whatever it is you're looking for."

Nate looked at Sully and could tell that they were thinking the same thing. He voiced their concern. "No offense, Al, but we usually work alone. We cannot be responsible for any injuries you could and probably will sustain while spending time around us. Besides, you don't even know why we're here. Why would you want to follow us around?"

Alistair smirked and pulled off his sunglasses in one smooth motion to reveal deep blue eyes and a striking jawline. Maybe this guy was a _model_ for Armani. "Nate, Sully, come on now. Your reputation precedes you, especially in our line of work. If you're here, you must be hot on the trail of some gold statue, or lost city, or pirate's plunder, or—"

"Right. We get it. What's your point?"

"I can help you." He ran his hand down his suit as if he were showing it off. "You can see that I don't need the money, but damn it, I love the rush. I'll only ask for 5% of the takings."

Nate tried to raise his hand in opposition, but Sully was too focused on the words _five percent_ to pay any attention to him. "It's a deal, Al."

"Fine, whatever," Nate was too exhausted to protest, "but I'm going to sleep."

* * *

When he awoke the next morning, Nate realized that snow had fallen overnight. It was beginning to settle on the ground outside his quaint little motel. His lodgings had been quite a bit nicer than he'd expected because Alistair had offered to foot the bill as a sign of his good faith. Victor Sullivan never turned down the opportunity for someone else to pay for him. While he was staring at the window, there was a knock at his door.

"Nate, it's me." It was the familiar voice of Sully on the other side, "Let's figure out what we're doing today."

Nate opened the door to his old friend. "Shouldn't we invite Al in here, too?"

Sully groaned. Even though he was the one to actually enlist his help, he did not actually want Alistair with them. Sully was not an entirely trustworthy guy, but he certainly had good cause for being that way. "Fine. Call him over."

Nate placed a quick call from his room phone and then went to retrieve Magellan's journal from his carry-on bag. "The answer is somewhere in here, Sully. Maybe with three pairs of eyes, we can figure it out."

"Figure what out?" Alistair had entered the open door to Nate's room and then shut the door behind him. He was dressed "casually" inasmuch as he was only wearing a polo shirt, necktie, and nice slacks. In contrast, Nate was in a wife beater and cargo shorts and Sully was wearing an adult onesie pair of pajamas.

"Why the hell Sully wears a onesie."

Sully pointed his finger at his protégé, "Now look here, Nate, I don't go around critiquing your fashion choices."

Alistair laughed uncomfortably then moved back to his original question. "But seriously, what are you two looking at?"

Nate opened the journal for Alistair. "Picked this up in Paris the other day. It belonged to Magellan."

"I"m sorry," Alistair gasped, "Magellan? Ferdinand Magellan?"

"That's the one," answered Sully.

Nate pointed to a specific journal entry. "Look at this, Al. It records Magellan being here in Punta Arenas in December of 1520, but he—"

"Was supposed to have left in November!"

Nate was impressed and he glared at Sully. "Well, it looks like _someone_ paid attention in history class."

"I majored in finance, Nate," Sully quipped in response.

"Did you find anything else in the journal?" Alistair asked.

Nate shook his head. "Not really. Just some random symbols that don't mean anything to either of us."

"We've gotta be missing something, Nate!" Sully paced around the room as if, by doing so, an idea would suddenly strike him. As he walked by Nate for the fourth time, he grabbed for the journal. "Let me see it again, kid."

Nate was not expecting Sully's outburst, and the journal ended up flying through the air out of both men's hands. "Al! Catch that thing! That paper is almost 500 years old!"

Alistair made a dive for the journal and caught it just before it smacked against the wall. As he jumped, his head flew into the desk lamp nearby, flipping it on. "Shit!"

"Oh, geez, guys. I'm so sorry." Sully felt awful. "Are you all right, Al?"

"Well, actually, I'm—better than all right!"

Nate ran to Alistair's side. "Well, wouldn't you know it? Invisible ink. Way to use your head, Al."

Alistair felt the knot on his head for blood. It was clean. "Yeah, thanks. Anyway, enough about me, what does it say?"

"Give me a minute," Nate said. "16th century Portuguese is not exactly my native tongue."

"How do you say 'gold' in Portuguese?" Sully asked.

Nate ignored him and cleared his throat. "We have lost the _Santa Angelina_ , but we are going to continue forward on the _Nao Victoria_ —"

"What's the _Santa Angelina_?" Alistair asked.

"History says that the _Nao Victoria_ was Magellan's primary ship. What if he had a different flagship prior to that? He never mentioned it in any official writings."

"Well," Sully urged, "keep reading!"

"If you wish to recover the contents of the shipwreck, Elcano will carve the clues on its replacement."

"Do you think he means Juan Sebastián Elcano, Magellan's first mate?" Alistair asked.

Nate nodded. "Maybe so, Al."

Sully slammed his fist down. "Damn it! The _Victoria_ 's been termite food for centuries now. How are we going to find the shipwreck?"

For the first time, Nate saw excitement on Alistair's face. "There is a famous replica of it right here in Punta Arenas. If the replica is as true-to-life as it should be, then we may very well have the exact information we need!"

"Al!" Sully shouted as he slapped his new compatriot across his back, "You're a genius! I could kiss you!"

"Please don't."


	3. Get to the Punta

Nate, Sully, and Alistair arrived at the _Nao Victoria_ museum as soon as it opened. The snow had all but ceased, but the bitter cold was still chilling to the bone. The parkas that Captain Muñoz had provided were certainly helpful, but still left a lot to be desired. The heat was on inside the museum, but clearly, its owner wanted to save money on heat as much possible.

Once inside, they wasted no time in going to the room bearing the _Nao Victoria_ replica. Various tour guides and other museum workers tried to call their attention to other things, but they were laser-focused on their goal. They needed to somehow climb up to the mast without being seen. They had already agreed that Nate was the obvious candidate for this task.

There was a sign standing in front of the replica: _recinto privado_ , private area. Nate had ignored that sign before in many, many different languages.

Nate waited for a tour guide to pass into another room and then ran behind the replica, poised to begin his climb.

Sully peaked around the ship and called out in a loud whisper. "Why the hell are we doing this while the museum's open?"

"Because we're stupid!" Nate called back.

Alistair rolled his eyes. "No argument here."

Nate was getting irritated. "Would you two shut up? I can't concentrate."

Nate had just started to climb up the side of the ship when he heard footsteps approaching. He flattened himself against the hull, hoping to remain unseen.

"Don't worry," said Alistair, "I'll run interference."

A young Chilean native strolled up to the two men. She ignored Sully completely and focused solely on Alistair. Her long yellow dress flowed to the ground and her smile was a bright ray of sunshine in the cold of winter. "Good morning, gents. My name is Tania, and I am one of the museum guides here."Alistair turned the charm up to eleven. "Well, Tania. It is certainly a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Sully smiled out of the corner of his mouth. _If you've got it, flaunt it_ , he thought. He signaled to Nate to keep climbing.

He did. The replica was quite well-built, and Nate suddenly had a real appreciation for modern woodworking. As he cleared the hull of the ship, he glanced over to Alistair and saw that the distraction was still in effect. He dropped onto the main deck and then started to climb the ladder leading up the mast.

When he reached the crow's nest, there—in plain sight—were the markings described in the journal. There were strange and mysterious squiggles and runes carved across the wood. "Hot damn," Nate whispered to himself, "they replicated it exactly."

Nate fumbled for a camera he had hanging around his neck, preparing to take as many pictures of the runes as he could. This would prove to be a more difficult task than he had expected. It was at that moment that the screaming began.

* * *

"What the hell's that?" Sully yelled at the young museum guide.

"I'm not sure, sir, maybe I should just—"

The screaming grew louder, then there was gunfire.

Nate was alone at the top of the replica ship. At this point, stealthiness was the least of his concerns. He snapped a few pictures of the runes carved into the mast, and then he surveyed the situation. "Damn it. They must be killing visitors. Who the hell are they?"

Sully looked to the top of the ship. "Nate, get your ass down here!"

"I'm getting; I'm getting!"

A group of five young Asian men in dark black suits entered the room. They were each armed with assault rifles and were covered in blood, clearly not their own. Alistair fired a few shots at the hostiles, each of which missed the mark. Sully had a bit more luck, hitting one in the shoulder, causing him to drop his M16.

Nate looked around and saw a rope that led down to the side of the ship. "Oh crap!" he yelled as he swung on the rope and dropped down onto the floor. Quite by accident, he landed on one of the assailants and took him out. "Well. Thanks, gravity."

Tania screamed and ran towards the lobby. She did not even make it out of the room. "What was she thinking?" Alistair yelled as he fired a few more shots and missed them all again.

Sully ducked behind a fake lifeboat that was placed in front of the _Nao Victoria_. "You're a damn lousy shot, Al!" A flurry of bullets flew across the top of the lifeboat, ripping a good portion of its hull to shreds.

Nate grabbed the M16 off the man he had landed on. "You two, get to safety! I'll cover you!" Though the man was unconscious, Nate got the man to his feet and put his own gun to his head. "All right, nobody move or your buddy gets it!" More bullets flew threw the room, destroying the rest of the lifeboat just as Sully had finally gotten away from it. "Why the hell doesn't that ever work with the bad guys?"

Nate pulled the pin on a grenade attached to his hostage's belt and pushed him forward into his comrades. " _Adios, muchachos_!" he said as the explosion sent all five assailants flying in different directions.

"Nice one, kid!" Sully yelled as he ran toward the exit. "Come on, No-Aim Walker, let's get moving."

Nate pulled off one of their suit jackets and brought it over to his companions. "Hey, look at this patch on the sleeve. It looks like a red dragon."

"Holy shit," said Sully with apprehension, "it's the goddamn Triads."

"What? Like, the Chinese mafia Triads?"

"What the hell are they doing here?"

"They must be after the treasure," Alistair said. "How did they know to look here?"

"This is so not cool!" Nate exclaimed.

Sully shrugged. "I thought by now you'd learn to expect the unexpected, Nate. But, anyway, speaking of treasure—were you able to find the clues on the mast? Did they copy what Alcano had put there?"

Nate pulled his camera off his shoulder and showed Sully the pictures he had taken in the tiny viewfinder. "What do _you_ think, old man?"

"Very nice, but how about we go somewhere with a lot less bullet holes in it? I'm pretty sure the police are not going to be too fond of a couple of Americans poking around where they don't belong."

The three of them found a nearby cafe and sat down with some coffee in a remote corner of the room. The caffeine and hot liquid were both very inviting. When the coast was clear, Nate took out the journal and the camera and laid them both on the table.

Sully flipped through the pages. "Look, Nate. These same symbols are in the journal. Is it some kind of code?"

"It's a set of directions," Nate answered. "Give me some paper."

Alistair was awestruck. "You are a very intelligent man, Nate. I'm impressed."

"Oh god, Al, please don't say anything to boost his ego even more."

Nate rolled his eyes. "Okay. I have the directions, and it says they start from 'Philip's Mountain.'"

"What's Philip's Mountain?" Alistair asked.

"I'm sure it's not still called that, but it's probably just some name they gave it at the time."

Sully took another sip of coffee and pulled his chair in closer to the table. "So, let me get this straight. We have directions from some unknown mountain that may or may not lead us to a place Magellan may or may not have been."

Nate grinned uneasily. "That sounds about right."

Alistair produced a topographical map of the area from within his coat pocket. "Where do you think this mountain is located?"

Nate studied the map. "It would have to be somewhere near Punta Arenas. Magellan wouldn't have had the ability to go far inland."

Sully pointed towards an area west of their current location. "What if the mountain were just a hill? Or, more correctly, a series of hills? The Cerro Mirador ski resort is right here. Those hills were probably at the highest elevation that Magellan would have seen at the time."

"Good thinking," Nate agreed. "So, if we follow the directions encoded in the journal—" Nate traced his finger along the map to a point in the Strait of Magellan. "That would put the shipwreck right around here."

Alistair's excitement was evident. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go check it out."

"Okay," Sully began. He felt that his age and experience made him worthy of being in charge. "Al, go see if you can rent us a boat. Nate, you go see about getting us supplies. We'll probably need scuba gear and wetsuits if we're going to go searching for a sunken ship."

"What about you, Sully?" Nate asked.

"I'm going to scope out the area. I need to figure out what happened with the Triads. I'm sure there will be witnesses that were at the museum."

Alistair nodded. "Okay. Should we meet at the marina?"

"Yeah. In two hours."

* * *

The two hours passed promptly. The three of them met back up as planned. Nate was loading the gear onto the boat Alistair had acquired. "Hey Sully. Find anything out about the Triads?"

The old man shook his head. "Not a goddamn thing, kid. I have no idea what they are doing here, and no one who survived the attack knew anything, either."

"What about the police?"

"They've never seen any mob activity around here at all. The Triads have to be here for the treasure."

"For us," Nate added.

"Oh well. Let's get going anyway."

Sully sat in the driver's seat. "Heading is at 40°. Let's take it slow for now. 10 knots."

Sully was reliving his Navy days for the first time in ages, and Nate thought it best to humor him. "Roger that, Captain Sullivan."

The motor turned over in the water and the boat began to sail through the water, leaving a gentle wake behind it. It was a cold day, so the water was completely empty save for their craft. That's why it was very easy to hear the boat approaching from behind them.

"Uhh… Sully? What's that behind us?"


	4. A Boat Over Troubled Water

"Oh crap! Sully, hit the throttle!"

"I'm trying, damn it! This is not the most open of sea water. Is it the Triads again?"

The boat in pursuit was clearly a faster vessel. Within a few moments, they were within shooting range and the bullets were flying. "I'd say that's a yes!"

Two more boats joined the chase. "These guys don't give up," said Alistair.

"We can't let them follow us to the site of the shipwreck. Sully, you've gotta lose them."

"What a goddamn mess. Hold on back there!"

Sully spun the wheel hard to starboard. The motor spat as the vessel cut a sharp turn back towards their attackers. Nate fired off a few shots with the tiny pistol that Captain Muñoz had given him. The tiny rounds plonked against the port side hull and fell into the sea.

"Shit! I can't do anything with these pea shooters." Two of the attacker's ships sped by, firing M16s at them from both directions. Also, the high speeds had caused their own boat to get tossed around in the wake. "Whoa!" Nate lost his footing and slammed into a cooler for storing fish. He ignored the stinging pain in his back to roll away from the incoming bullets.

"There is no way I'm getting my deposit back on this rental," said Alistair.

"Coming around again!" Sully yelled in an effort to be heard over the motors. Nate reached for the nearest thing he could find that was bolted down to the boat. Sully slammed the throttle forward and spun the steering wheel to the port side.

Whatever Nate had grabbed, it wasn't bolted on very well. He was immediately flung into the air, splashing down into the sea a moment later.

"Nate!" Sully yelled, looking for some sign that his friend was okay.

"They're coming right for us!" Alistair shouted as the opposing vessels had managed to line up on them and started pushing through the waves quickly.

Sully threw the throttle into full reverse. Two of the boats swerved by each other as they hit the wake from Sully's. "Holy shit; that was close. Where the hell's Nate?"

The third boat had slowed down dramatically to prepare for another pass. Sully saw a tug on the rope running behind it. Nate choked and coughed as he came up from below the surf, grabbing the rope with all his might.

"Well, I always wanted to try barefoot waterskiing!" Nate quipped.

It didn't take long for the Triads to notice him. One of them yelled something in Chinese and then the bullets started flying. Again.

"Dammit! Nate! Thank God he's okay." Sully sat back in his seat and grabbed his gun, along with the one that Nate had recently dropped and had slid over to the captain's chair. "Al, take the wheel."

"What? I don't know how to drive a boat."

"Learn. Fast. I gotta go help Nate. Take the wheel." He pointed towards one of his attackers. "Point it at that boat."

"Are you crazy? This boat can't survive a—"

"Just do it, kid!"

Alistair did as he was instructed. Meanwhile, one of the Triads had crawled out to the end of the boat. He drew out a knife and bent over to start cutting on the rope.

"Oh crap! Sully!" Nate knew that there was no way his friend would possibly hear him, but he yelled for help anyway.

Sully started firing both of his tiny pistols towards Nate's boat. The Triad paused for a moment, but then saw that none of the shots had come anywhere near him.

"Lousy shot!" he yelled.

"Not quite," Sully answered back as he aimed his gun once again at the fuel tank. " _Sayonara_ , you son of a bitch!"

Sully fired again and then tossed his lit cigar into the pool of gasoline that now sat at the back of the boat. He watched it explode into a mass of red and orange fire. The blast shot through the rope holding Nate and split, sending him flying through the air, right onto another boat. Sully jumped in the boat with him, grabbing its driver by the neck and twisting it until he heard the crack. He tossed the body into the sea.

"Sully, _sayonara_ is Japanese, not Chinese."

"How about a little gratitude for saving your ass?"

"Thanks, Sully. By the way, did you leave Al all by himself on that boat?"

"Well, I couldn't trust him to take out the fuel tank. He couldn't hit even hit the ocean, much less a fuel tank."

"Good point. So, ready to take out these other two boats?"

"Don't have much of a choice, do we?" Sully grabbed an M16 that was lying on the ground and handed it to Nate. "You better hold on, kid."

The two remaining boats turned to face their own. Alistair was wisely trying to avoid the others.

"Get me close, Sully. I should be able to do some damage with this baby." Nate reloaded the magazine with bullets and went to sit down at the front of the boat, grabbing the rifle with one hand and the underside of his seat with the other.

One of the attacking boats spun around and three men stood on its side, waiting to engage in broadside combat. It was like an old Spanish galleon opening its cannons to fire upon an English frigate. In this case, however, the frigate only had one gun. Sully pushed the throttle forward and laid down in the floor to avoid the onslaught. Nate's quick reflexes won out. He took down two of the men posted on the boat and jumped across to grab the other one.

The large man has size on Nate in every category, and he used it. Nate grabbed him around the neck and he threw himself hard against the center console, pinning Nate's body between it and his own.

Nate groaned but stayed on his feet. "Who do you work for?"

The man bent his head to crack his neck and adjusted his very expensive tie. Then, he threw a heavy right hook that Nate dodged just in time.

Nate countered by jabbing him in the stomach. He barely flenched. "I asked you who you work for!"

The Triad grabbed a gaff from nearby and swung it hard at Nate. He slipped behind the console to avoid the pole, but the hook caught him in the left arm and gave him a mean scratch. "You know who we are. We are the society of the three harmonies. Our points and our angles must align." The man had a strong Brooklyn accent; he clearly didn't grow up in China.

Nate pulled out his rifle, but his opponent knocked it swiftly away. "What the hell does that mean?"

He swung the gaff again, but this time Nate caught it and plunged the hook into the nearby console, rendering it useless."You know?" his opponent began, "I really have no idea. Probably some eastern bullshit. They just tell me to say that."

Nate shrugged and kicked the man in the shin. "Well, at least you're honest."

"Yeah, but they pay well and let me hurt people. It's a great gig." He pulled Nate's arm back and bent it almost to the breaking point. Nate winced in pain, but then managed to throw his legs out and dropkick his opponent, releasing him from his grasp. Nate took the slight delay as an opportunity and grabbed the boat anchor which just happened to be lying on the ground within his reach. He stood to his feet and smashed the large man across the back of his head with the anchor. He fell forward, clutching for whatever he could find to maintain his composure. His hand grabbed the throttle stick, but he could not stay up. On his way down, though, he pushed the stick all the way forward.

The inertial force threw Nate back and he slammed against the floor of the boat. "Oh, no, no, no!" He pulled himself up, but before he could reach the throttle, the boat ran aground on a nearby tiny island, tossing Nate up into the air and over the guardrails into the dirt.

Sully heard the crash and turned to see Nate's boat tossed up on the shore. "Nate! No!"

There was only one boat left to contend with. Alistair, thinking that he now outnumbered his opposition, decided to move back into the fray, coming to Sully's aid. The remaining enemy vessel spun around and moved to attack Alistair's. Alistair was overwhelmingly outgunned, but he didn't back down. The opposing boat made a pass and its inhabitants fired a flurry of bullets toward Alistair's ship, but miraculously, they all went wide of the mark.

Sully had turned his boat at a vector with a design to cut off his opponent's escape. "Goddamn kid has a guardian angel." Sully took a hard turn to follow his attacker. As he did, he heard something metallic rolling across the floor of the boat. A grenade.

The old man pulled the boat close. "Umm… Whatever's Chinese for goodbye!" He tossed the grenade and it landed directly below the ship's driver. He yelled as his boat exploded and pieces of it flew across the open sea. The shockwaves from the explosion sent ripples through the water and tossed the boat aside. Sully managed to set it straight. He slowed the throttle to a stop and dropped into the captain's chair to take a long break. "Holy shit. I think that's the last of them."

Alistair pulled his boat alongside Sully's and called out to him from his seat. "Well, that was an adventure."

"Yeah, it was a real pleasure cruise. Did you happen to see if Nate was all right?"

"Oh, sorry, Sully. I didn't get a chance."

Sully shook his head, trying to hide his irritation. "Okay, fine. Follow me over to the island where he ran aground."

The two boats did just that. When Sully arrived, Nate was still out cold. He gave his friend some light slaps in the face, trying to bring him back to consciousness. After a few seconds, Nate coughed and he slowly begs to open his eyes.

Nate spit sand out as he addressed his mentor. "I don't want to eat seafood again for the rest of my life."


	5. A Little Scuba Never Hurt Anyone

Sully slowed the boat and pulled it gently to a stop somewhere in the Strait of Magellan. He pointed at Alistair's map. "I think this is the place. You guys ready for a swim?"

All three of them had worn wetsuits under their clothes. Although it was not the most comfortable fashion choice, they did not want to have to change clothes on a boat in freezing temperatures. "As ready as I'm going to be," Nate responded. "What's the plan?"

"I guess we just put on some snorkels and pray that these wetsuits keep us warm. If anyone spots anything, signal the others by coming back up to the boat and running the motor for a few seconds."

"Got it. Let's go."

The three of them placed snorkels into their mouths and dove beneath the water. Bubbles blew out and rose to the surface as they spread out and began to search the area beneath the waters of the Strait of Magellan. Nate was the first to see it. Along the sea floor was the first piece of the _Santa Angelina._ He pushed his legs down to begin to swim toward the surface. Sully and Alistair caught wind of the discovery and followed Nate up to the boat.

"Find something?" Alistair asked.

"I found a piece of the _Santa Angelina_. I bet if we take a closer look, we can find the rest of it."

Sully smiled. "Lead on, kid."

The three of them swam down, following Nate to the bottom of the ocean. It didn't take long for Sully to see it. Through a set of rocks ahead, the majestic remains of the _Santa Angelina_ unfolded before his eyes. If he could have spoken, Sully would have shouted with glee. Nate and Alistair followed him as they swam through the remains of the centuries-old Portuguese carrack. Before they had a chance to search the ship, Nate noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

He motioned for the others to follow him as he discovered the existence of an underwater cavern. Crystalline features glistened as they came up out of the water into this spectacular phenomenon.

"Whoa." Nate was awestruck. The cavern walls reflected the beauty of the sea water and cast it out like a prism across the floor. Clearly, they had not arrived here by accident.

"Nate. What is this place?" Sully was flabbergasted.

"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure that Magellan intended for someone to be here. Do you think he sank his ship on purpose?"

Alistair shook his head. "That's ludicrous. Why would he give up such an amazing ship? I'm pretty sure that the King of Spain would not have allowed such a thing. That would have been a huge financial loss for his fleet in a world where they were constantly at odds with England."

Sully hadn't been listening. Something else had caught his eye. "Guys, come take a look at this."

In the center of the cave floor was a hole cut out to contain a small pool of seawater. The water was bubbling under the hidden heat of geothermal energy. "A hot spring."

"Well, I'll be damned."

Nate slowly slipped his foot into the water. "Still think this place is a coincidence, Al?" He sighed with contentment and allowed his body to slide down into the water. "Holy crap, that feels amazing."

Alistair shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, fine. You win. The ship was definitely a beacon to point someone here. But, what is here? This has to be more than just a hot spring."

Sully jumped into the soothing waters. The pain of his aching joints disappeared below the surface. "Nate, this is unbelievable. This is a _real_ treasure."

"Well, at least we know how Magellan kept warm around here," Nate joked. "What do you think we're really looking for?"

Sully watched the cave walls. The rainbow-colored lights continued to flash against the ice-covered stone with spectacular results. Something about them struck him as interesting. "Hey, Nate. Take a look at the reflections on the wall. There's something unusual going on there."

Rainbows danced across the limestone as the water inside the hot spring splashed around Nate as he swam. Without warning, Nate felt his foot slam against something hard beneath the water. "Oh, shit! What the hell?"

Alistair ran over to the water. "Nate? What happened?"

"I just hit something really hard on the bottom of the pool." He slid out of the water and threw his leg up across the side, pulling off his boot. He was bruised, but there wasn't any blood coming from the wound.

Sully dove beneath the surface and quickly rose again with the culprit. "It looks like some sort of idol." The figure was a small statue made of pure silver. It had clearly been submerged for centuries. "It's a nice hunk of shiny, but it's not going to be paying too many bills at five bucks an ounce. Some great treasure, Ferdinand."

Nate shoved his foot back into the hot spring. "Geez, it's cold in here." He winced in pain as his toes still throbbed. After a moment, he was able to ignore the pain. "There's definitely something going on with the spectrum of light in this cave. Maybe this idol has something to do with it?"

Sully handed Nate the idol and he turned it around carefully in his hands. When he placed it near the base of the hot spring, it was immediately evident that there was something special about it. Light flooded through the small silver statue which had initially appeared to be opaque, shining rainbow colors brightly across the entire room.

"That's incredible," said Alistair as he watched the beams of light shoot across the room.

Sully pointed at the wall nearest him. "Look! It's those symbols again."

"You're right!" Nate exclaimed. "Just like on the mast of the _Nao Victoria_."

"More directions?" Alistair had moved over to stand by Nate as he looked at the rainbow-colored symbols along the wall.

Nate had the journal out to translate. "I think so. Give me a minute." He traced his fingers along the paper, occasionally glancing at the wall, trying to match the symbols together. "Got it! We head south… and east."

Sully gave Nate a confused look. "South? There's nothing south of here, Nate. Magellan couldn't have gone any further south."

"That's what it says, Sully."

"What about Antarctica?" Alistair asked.

Sully almost laughed at the notion. "Antarctica? Are you insane, Al? There is no historical record of anyone landing in Antarctica before the nineteenth century. How the hell would Ferdinand Magellan have been able to survive all that ice in the ships he had?"

Nate perked up. "No, no, no. He's right. What if Ferdinand Magellan actually discovered Antarctica hundreds of years earlier, but he had never told anyone? It'd be the perfect place to hide a treasure and make sure it was never found…"

Al smiled, confident that his contribution would finally be noticed. "It's only a few hundred miles away. Magellan could have easily disappeared to Antarctica for a while; there were five months between journal entries after all."

"Damn it. You really think that's possible, Nate?"

"I don't know, but I think we owe it to ourselves to find out."

"God damn it, Nate. As if it wasn't cold enough in southern Chile, now we have to go to Antarctica? I doubt we'll be lucky enough to find any nice hot springs there."

Nate chuckled as he pointed at the luminescent site in front of him. "Cheer up, Sully. Don't forget there's always gold at the end of the rainbow."

Sully grinned. "I like those rainbows."

* * *

The three men pushed their way through the frigid water, making the short trip back out of the cavern, through the shipwreck, and to the surface of the Strait of Magellan. They soon realized that they were not there alone.

As Nate surfaced, he heard the familiar sound of a revolver's hammer clicking into place. Nate smirked, not yet facing his enemy. ".44 Magnum, I presume?"

Nate turned to see a young Asian man with a long ponytail, dressed in a very expensive suit. He was surrounded by a number of Asian men and women also dressed in suits. All of them were pointing guns in their direction. "You certainly know your guns, Mr. Drake," the man responded.

Sully came out of the water next. "Damn it. More Triads."

Alistair came up last. The man with the magnum pointed it at Nate's face. "Weapons on the ground, you three."

Nate looked to Sully for reassurance, and he nodded. They dropped what they had on the ground.

Nate kicked at the sand in front of him. "Damn it! Why the hell are you all here? It's freaking Chile, not China! Why do you keep showing up?"

"The same reason you do, Mr. Drake. We know that Magellan's treasure is here, and we intend to find it."

"Well, you won't find it without us! We know the secrets of this place."

Alistair smiled and picked up his gun.

"Al, what the hell are you doing?" Sully was visibly concerned.

Alistair laughed. "Why, rejoining my men, of course. I have to hand it to you, Mr. Sullivan and Mr. Drake, Captain Muñoz was right about you two."

"What the hell? Did you two set us up?"

"You've gotta be joking, Mr. Sullivan! That guy wouldn't give up on you if you literally stabbed him in the back. No, no. This was something I had planned long ago. I just had to track down the right people to get the job done."

"So, now what? You tie concrete blocks to our feet and leave us in the Strait of Magellan?"

"Ha. Tempting. But, no. I honestly do appreciate your help. Because of you two, I'll be able to build the Triad empire in the Americas that I deserve. All you have to do is get in your little boat and drive it back to Punta Arenas. Go home and rest up."

"We earned a share of that treasure, Al!"

"Mr. Drake, don't be stupid. I'm giving you your life back." Alistair and his comrades walked across the sandbar to a seaplane that was parked nearby. "So long, friends. I honestly hope we don't meet again."

The seaplane started down the channel, slowly picking up speed. Nate grabbed their guns and tossed one to Sully. "C'mon! We gotta catch that plane!"

"What the hell's wrong with you, Nate? These sons of bitches are not playing around. No treasure is worth all that."

"Sully. You know you're like the father I never had, and I hang on to every word that comes out of your mouth, but we're getting on that plane." Nate had just finished swimming to their boat, and Sully was right behind him. "Hop in the driver's seat and let's get going!"

Sully threw on his Navy sailor's cap and slammed the throttle forward. "Aye aye, captain bossy!"

Nate wasn't expecting the initial jolt, and its force tossed him backwards, almost off the boat. At the last second, he was able to grab on to a railing along the side of the boat.

"Kid! You okay?"

"I'm ship shape, Sully! Just get me over to that seaplane!"

Nate inched along the starboard side of the boat, making his way slowly to the bow. Water splashed in his face and the salt stung his eyes, but Nathan Drake was not about to let Alistair Walker get away with what he had done to them.

The seaplane full of Triad mobsters began to lift off the surface of the sea. "Hurry, Sully!"

"I'm going as fast as I can, Nate! And did I mention that this is ludicrous?"

"You did! A lot!" Nate grabbed onto the rails overhanging the bow of the boat and lifted himself up. "Just a little closer!"

"Almost there, Nate. And… now! Jump!"

He did. Nate leapt from the bow of the boat and caught the sea plane right on the bottom of its floats. "Whoa! I… I'm okay, Sully!"

With the sound of the plane's engines, and the splashing of the water flying up around Sully as he sped through the ocean, Nate's voice was drowned out to nothing. Sully waved to his friend, and Nate waved back. Nate pulled himself up to sit along the plane's landing gear. "Holy shit. Now I have to hang onto this plane for the next two hours…"


	6. In the Great White South

It was cold. It was damn cold. Nathan Drake had been shivering for hours. If his enemies did not land their plane soon, he was done for. Even if they did, they were in the middle of the antarctic wilderness; there was no where he could find decent shelter in this mess. Sully was right; he shouldn't be here.

Metallic sounds. There was movement inside the plane. Nate bent his ear to get a good listen. He recognized the voice of Alistair Walker, the man who had just duped him into giving him the location of Magellan's lost treasure.

"Are you daft, man? We can't land the plane at Julio Escudero."

Julio Escudero was one of the few Antarctic research stations with a landing strip. Nate knew they must be near King George Island. The directions that he'd found in the cave would have led them fairly close to the research station.

"We have a seaplane! Land in the sea!"

"Well, Al doesn't have quite as cool of a head as he lets on," Nate remarked to himself. The plane started to descend towards the ocean; Nate knew he would have to disembark without falling into the frigid sea water. He was already chilled to the bone.

Nate saw his chance and took it. He dropped off the floats of the seaplane and landed hard on the ice below. The sound of the cracking ice reverberated through the air. Nate rolled as he hit the ground and then jumped to safety at the last second, landing on a bed of fresh snow.

"Geez! That is _not_ fun!" he yelled to no one in particular. Across the other side of the nearest iceberg, Nate could hear the sounds of the seaplane engines cutting off.

Alistair leapt forth from the plane and landed on the ice below. It was much firmer where he was standing. _Of course,_ Nate thought.

Nate peered out from around as nearby chunk of ice. He couldn't see much, but he could hear voices. The first one he heard was that of a female. "Mr. Walker, we shouldn't be that far from the treasure. It's only a few kilometers hike to the northwest."

"Thanks, Jenny," Alistair replied. "What I cannot understand is how there is some sort of treasure cave hidden amidst one of the most densely-populated areas of Antarctica."

"Maybe these research bases actually sprung up in order to mask the search for Magellan's treasure?"

"Not a bad theory, Jenny," Nate muttered quietly to himself, "but…"

"Nah, it can't be." Alistair replied. "There's no way that anyone has ever found Magellan's underwater cave until now. Only someone as smart as Drake or Sullivan could have pieced together all the clues."

Nate smiled, allowing himself to enjoy the compliments of his enemy.

"You could have done it." Jenny's voice had just a tinge of longing attached to it.

Alistair ignored her advances. "Let's get moving," he said coldly.

Nate moved across the ice to get a better view of his enemy party. Somehow, a half dozen of them fit into that tiny seaplane. They were all armed to the teeth and probably skilled in hand to hand fighting.

"I better be careful. These guys probably know Kung Fu." Nate reflected for a moment. "Wow. That was racist, Nate." He slicked his hair back with his hand and took up a mock fighting stance. "I know Kung Fu!" he said in his best Keanu Reeves impression.

He shook his head and looked at the mounds of ice around him. "Nate, you travel all the way to Antarctica to say movie quotes…" After his moment of self-loathing passed, he noticed that his enemies had begun their trek north.

"Zao, anything to report?" Alistair asked one of his men.

"Nothing yet," he replied as he removed his binoculars. "As you said before, the entrance must be well-hidden if none of these researchers have found it."

"Magellan was a smart man, but he must have had some symbol or other mechanism for finding the burial spot. I'm sure he intended to come back here someday."

After that, Nate had stopped listening to the conversation. He knew that he had to get moving if he wanted to find the treasure before his opposition. The odds were not in his favor, but that had never stopped him before.

* * *

Nate had managed to get a bit ahead of his opposition. He was traveling lightly, which was a really dangerous way to travel in Antarctica, but it did, at least, allow him to move swiftly and stealthily from iceberg to iceberg. He moved slowly across the ice, fighting the miserable cold as well as the imminent threat of thin ice plunging him into a wintry grave. Snow had started to fall recently, and by now, it was flying through the cold air rapidly. It wasn't storming enough to be dangerous yet, but Nate knew he had to get to shelter quickly, before he ended up as an ice cube for a researcher to find someday.

In truth, he missed Sully. It was a feeling that he often tried to push down, but it always seemed to push itself back up to the front of his mind. This certainly hadn't been his first job alone, but he always felt alone without his father figure. Of course, he would never willingly admit that to his mentor.

The area was quiet. Most animals had already left the area for winter. The only sound was that of the ice cracking and splintering below his feet as he moved. His every motion was planned, methodical. The plodding nature of his trek made it feel as though it had lasted an eternity, but his watch indicated that only thirty minutes had elapsed. When he was just about to give up all hope, something happened that dramatically changed his outlook.

He took a step on the ice, but strangely enough, this particular part of the ice felt hollow, like it could be empty beneath him. He quickly pushed aside the snow at his feet; his hands were blue, starting to show the initial signs of frostbite. It was well worth the pain. Below him, was some a stone marker with the inscription _Magalhães XXV dezembro MDXX_. "Oh crap. He did it. Magellan _did_ find Antarctica, and on Christmas Day, no less!"

Nate felt around along the stone marker and noticed a small circular–shaped indentation. "That's odd. Neither the journals nor the message in the underground cavern mentioned anything about needing to unlock the entrance."

Behind him, he could hear the familiar sound of boots tromping through fresh snow. Alistair and his men were quickly approaching, and he had to get inside fast.

"The silver idol! That has to be what goes here. Crap, I don't even know if we brought it." His opponents drew closer as Nate dumped the contents of his shoulder bag onto the ground.

"How close are we?" Alistair's irritation was becoming more and more audible in his tone. "We've been hiking longer than I expected."

Nate dove behind a nearby rock formation; his time had run out.

"We should be very close, Mr. Walker. The coordinates you got from Drake indicate that we—"

"Hold on! I found something!"

That was Jenny's voice. Nate was very sure that this was a woman to be reckoned with. Things were not going well. He hadn't even had time to look through the items in his bag. Now, they were strewn about in the snow just waiting for his opponents to take advantage as they saw fit.

At last, the tone of Alistair's voice changed. "Jenny! This is amazing. I never doubted you for a second." He dropped down to all fours to get a closer look. "Wait a minute. How is just sitting here uncovered? Snow has been falling on the spot for hundreds of years."

"It's Drake!" Jenny said maliciously. "Somehow, he must have beaten us here."

"Damn it! That's impossible! Even if he followed us here on the boat, there's no way he could have gotten here so quickly." Zao was clearly upset.

"Do not underestimate Nathan Drake," Alistair began. "It may be the last mistake you ever make."

"Understood, sir." Jenny bent down next to Alistair to get a closer look at the stone carving (and to be nearer to the man for which she yearned). "Look at this. Something circular likely fits into this groove."

"Sir!" called another male voice from nearby. "Supplies. Over here in the snow. Someone has been here recently."

"Drake. Do you think he's inside already?" Jenny asked.

"No. Drake wouldn't have shut the hatch without knowing there was another way out. He's around here somewhere. Find him!"

Crap. Nate was in real trouble. It was foolish of him to come alone. He knew that. Sully knew that. He hadn't listened, and now it may cost him everything.

"No sign of him yet, Mr. Walker," said the same male voice from before.

"You've only been looking for him for twenty seconds! Why are you giving me a status update?"

"Apologies, sir!" The man returned to his search. _Touchy!_ he uttered to himself.

"What was that?!"

"Nothing, sir!"

The idiotic display had produced enough of a distraction for Nate to find a better hiding place.

"Sir!" Jenny was anxious. "I've found something amongst the supplies. This silver totem appears to be the correct size to fit into the slot set in the stone."

 _Damn it!_ Nate did have the idol with him. Of course, that verb was in the past tense.

Jenny brought the silver idol to Alistair. "Excellent work! Drake must have brought this with him from the cave in Chile." He held the idol high into the air, preparing to insert it with a dramatic flair. "Ladies and gentlemen, the treasures of Ferdinand Magellan!" He brought the idol down, but a stray bullet knocked it from his hands.

"What the hell?!"

Zao stood nearby with a smile on his lips. "Sammy Wong sends his regards, Mr. Walker."

"What is this shit you're going on about?" Alistair was enraged. He shook the tension out of his hands.

"Sammy Wong is tired of taking orders from a damned _gweilo_. Now, hand over the idol, and I will give you a clean death."

"Wow. I certainly admire your ambition, Zao, but if Sammy Wong had a problem with me, he should have come to me himself. Not only that, but Tseng appointed _me_ ; it would not be wise to cross The Surgeon."

Nate lie still. This whole conversation seemed really odd and out of place, but a civil war between his enemies would likely dwindle down their numbers. That was always good.

Alistair continued. "Not very smart to try and double-cross me out here in the middle of nowhere, amongst my loyal followers. Jenny, Mr. Fu, remove this obstacle."

"With pleasure," answered Mr. Fu, who was the man who had been searching for Nate. Fu pointed his pistol at Zao, but then quickly turned and fired on Alistair, putting two slugs deep in his chest. Alistair fell to the ground, blood spilling into the snow. The shooter removed his ski mask and stood before his victim.

"W… Wong! Filthy traitorous bastard!"

Zao turned his gun on Jenny as Sammy Wong continued his spiel. "I should have come myself, eh? I could not agree more, Mr. Walker." He pressed a snow boot into Alistair's chest wound. As Alistair screamed in pain, Wong turned back to Jenny. "Now, Miss Sung, I have always admired your… abilities. I would be honored to have you join me on this hunt."

"But I… love him."

" _Loved_." Wong pulled the trigger on Alistair one last time.

"You bastard, Wong! What will Billy Tseng think when he hears of your betrayal?"

"I imagine I'll be getting a pat on the back, Miss Sung. Now, for the last time, will you join me and claim your riches?"

Jenny tossed her small handgun into the snow beneath her. She pulled off the heavy hood of her heavy coat and let her long, dark hair fall down past her shoulders. "Let's end this the way our ancestors did."

Sammy Wong laughed. "You truly are a fool, Ms. Sung, but I do admire your spunk. I now know what that _gweilo_ saw in you. However, presently, I have a fortune to seek. Zao, take care of her and follow after me."

Zao turned and cracked his neck as he took up a fighting stance.

"Watched enough Bruce Lee movies, Zao?"

 _Nice line_ , Nate thought to himself.

Wong slid the silver idol into the slot below him. Mechanical cranks deep beneath the ice began to turn for the first time in centuries as the stone slab slid away to reveal a set of steps carved into the earth. Sammy Wong cackled as he descended the stairs with a nasty grin.

Jenny threw a quick punch across Zao's right cheek. His guard was down because of the ancient distraction, and she took advantage of it.

"Sucker punches are not very ladylike," he quipped as he regained his composure. His leg spun around quickly and connected with Jenny's right shoulder, sending her reeling backwards.

Nate had been quietly standing out of site for the last ten minutes. His lips were starting to turn blue from the intense cold. Now that Jenny and Zao were alone, he felt like he finally had a chance to get the upper hand.

Nate ran across the ice toward his foes, his trusty 9mm drawn and ready to fire. He watched as Jenny jumped into the air to send a flying right kick at her opponent. Zao parried it with ease, grabbing her leg and using her own force against her to toss her into the hard ice.

"Damn it!" Jenny yelled as she struggled against her pain. "It's not supposed to end this way!"

She summoned all her strength and jumped to her feet. She charged at Zao with everything she had, but she stopped immediately when she noticed that she was staring down the barrel of a .44 Magnum.

"Oh, Jenny, I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid it's going to end exactly how it is supposed to."

Zao pointed the weapon straight at her head. The sound of gunfire reverberated through the icy plains.


	7. Spelunking or Debunking?

Jenny watched steam rise from the bullet wound. Nate came out from his hiding place. It took a moment for Jenny to realize that the wound was not her own.

Zao's body dropped limply to the ice. "Are you all right?" Nate offered his hand to the stunned woman.

"Drake! What are you doing?" Jenny looked around for a weapon, but her attempts were ultimately fruitless.

"I heard the whole thing with you, Al, the other Triads; I'm trying to save your ass! We can still get out of this mess. All we have to do is hop in your seaplane and—"

"We can't let Sammy Wong have the treasure, Drake. If he gets control of all that money, he will use it to push his influence around. If he's the kind of guy that would betray his own organization, then he would tarnish the name of the Triads forever."

"Tarnish the name? Of— the Triads? Of the criminal organization? I understand. Wouldn't want people to think badly of your very respectable work."

Jenny frowned. She was not in the mood for Nate's sarcasm, but her current predicament did not allow her the opportunity to ignore it. "Say what you want, Mr. Drake; you're just as much a criminal as any of us."

Nate laughed. "Oh! That's rich. That's just incredible, there." His outward appearance tried to hide it, but he knew that Jenny was right. "Okay, so; what do we do? The two of us don't stand a chance against Sammy and his goons right now, especially with your injuries and my impending frostbite."

Before the injured woman could answer, the sound of a small helicopter filled the skies above them. Nate couldn't quite make it out, but he could tell that it had Chilean markings on it. He pointed to the aircraft and spoke to Jenny in a worried tone. "Expecting more of your respectable friends?"

Jenny shrugged. "If Wong had planned to call in reinforcements, he certainly wouldn't have told me."

"Find a gun, but don't use it unless I am in serious trouble. You need to rest as much as you can."

Jenny grabbed the nearest handgun that she could find; it had belonged to Alistair. "I'm fine, Drake. Let's just get this over with."

"Please. Nate." He extended his hand to hers.

She shook it while holding back a smile. "Jenny."

The copter landed nearby on a large patch of ice. Nate had his weapon at the ready, but when the pilot left the cockpit, the voice that followed him was very familiar. "Damn, it's cold!"

"Sullivan!" Nate was overly excited to see his friend. "Jenny, don't shoot. He's here to help us."

Sully breathed a sigh of relief. "You had me worried sick, kid. What the hell is going on here?"

"So, let me sum up. Al had some competitor in the Triads, and Jenny here continued to support Al. They left Jenny for dead, and I took care of the dude who was supposed to take care of her. Jenny insists that we need to stop this other dude, Sammy, before he uses the wealth and power to take over the world, blah blah blah. That about cover it?"

"Yep," Jenny affirmed.

"Works for me. Nice job finding Magellan's hiding place, kid."

"Nice job finding us!"

* * *

Nate, Sully, and Jenny surveyed the underground area as they each stepped off the last step of the initial staircase. Walls of thickly coated ice provided a protective barrier from the snowstorm outside, which was worsening by the moment. "I'll say this," Nate began, "Ferdinand Magellan sure knew how to pick a nice place to hide a treasure."

"Kid," Sully began, "I don't think there's a _wrong_ place for treasure."

There was a noise in the distance. "Quiet," Jenny cautioned. "Wong and his band of traitors must be nearby."

Sully spun the cylinder around on his revolver and locked the bullets into place. "Let's go."

"Seriously, Sully. Was that really necessary?"

"Hey. There's nothing wrong with trying to look cool."

"Trying being the key word with you, Sully."

"Would you two shut up?" Jenny inched forward, listening to ascertain Sammy Wong's plans. She heard the voice of one of his goons. They were speaking in Mandarin. Nate and Sully stood by, dumbfounded, hoping that she would translate for them.

"[We cannot cross here, Mr. Wong. There is no way this old bridge will hold our weight.]"

"Goddamn it!"

"What's wrong, Sully?"

"There's always a rickety old bridge! For once, can't we go after some guys who used metal? It's frikkin ridiculous, Nate! Just once, it'd be nice to find a treasure on the other side of a nice, sturdy, metal bridge!"

"Geez, Sullivan. Calm down, man." Nate shook his head and turned back to Jenny. "What are they planning?"

"One of their scouts found a narrow part of the chasm up ahead. I think they are planning to cross there."

"That's great. That means we might be able to make up some time by crossing at the bridge."

"Uhh… Nate. Rickety bridge. They suck; remember?"

"We'll be fine, Sully. I think."

The three of them moved through the icy caverns until they reached the centuries-old rope bridge. "I'll go first," Nate volunteered.

Sully did not argue. Nate began to step lightly onto the first plank. He noticed that there were eyelets for rope on each side of the ravine. "Hey, Sully, there are places to tie a—"

"Shh!" Sully interrupted. Nate froze. The old man's ears had decades of experience listening out for trouble. Now Nate heard them, too. Footsteps; headed their way. Nate began to move more quickly across the bridge, and he drew his pistol as Sully followed behind him. Planks creaked and cracked as it became even more discernible that the bridge could not support the weight of all three of them.

As Nate passed the halfway point on the bridge, a plank broke and fell hundreds of feet down to the ravine floor. The footsteps quickened as the crack echoed throughout the cave. Nate and Sully both continued to inch across the bridge, now with their pistols drawn and aimed at the only entrance into the room. Jenny had not even started to cross. She took cover, trying to keep hidden, hoping to avoid aggravating her injury.

"[I told you there was a place for climbing gear,]" said one of the men in Mandarin. Jenny was not there to translate, so Nate and Sully just ignored it and readied their firearms. Somehow, they had not seen the two men crossing the large bridge in front of them. That did not last long.

"Stop, you bitch fathers!" yelled one of the Triad goons in very broken English. He immediately drew his weapon and began firing. Another of the goons withdrew a machete from within her suit and ran over to put the old rope bridge out of its misery.

Nate's heart quaked with fear as he watched the machete start sawing away at the already-flimsy ropes supporting the bridge. He and Sully raced for the other side of the ravine as more planks splintered and snapped as they quickened their place. There was a loud pop where the machete cut through the last strand of the first rope, and that was enough. The bridge fell away, swinging forward from the back; Nate and Sully leapt as far as they could to reach the other side.

As they grasped the ice for dear life, the shots kept flying. Jenny appeared from behind her hiding spot and knocked the machete from her opponent's hands. She quickly swept the other woman's legs out from beneath her and jabbed the machete into her chest. Nate managed to get a hand free and fire his gun accurately enough to put the other one down.

"Geez, that was too close!"

Sully just laughed, "Ha! I've had closer!"

"We're going to have company, guys," Jenny yelled from across the ravine. "I've got to get over there before they show up."

Nate pointed to the eyelets dug into each side of the ravine. "Jenny; if we can tie a rope or something to the two eyelets, you could inch your way over. Do you have anything like that?"

She kicked the body of the dead man lying next to her. "He does."

"Awesome. Tie the end on your side and throw the rope across. I'll catch it and tie it over here."

"Oh? Is that how rope works, kid?" Sully jested.

"Yeah," Nate answered. "I was explaining because I wasn't sure if rope was invented yet when you were a kid."

"Funny."

Jenny tied the rope to the eyelet on her end and swung the rope around like a cowgirl about to lasso a dogie. She tossed the rope and then yelled as her muscles screamed out in pain. Nate reached out and almost slid off the ice, but Sully grabbed him and Nate grabbed the rope.

Nate quickly tied the rope into a knot in the eyelet and yelled out for Jenny to come across. She was already moving along the rope before he even said anything.

"Come on! We've got you covered!" Sully was eager to get away from the Triads that were no doubt right around the corner.

Sammy Wong and two more Triads entered the room and immediately began to fire on the three of them. Sully fired back, but he was in a very awkward position.

Jenny was only about a third of the way across the rope, so she decided to improvise. She pulled out the machete that she had taken from her downed enemy and began to saw through the rope. In a few seconds, the rope was cut free from the other side and she was catapulted toward the other side of the ravine, her body slamming hard into the wall of frozen rock. Sully tossed Nate his gun and began to help pull Jenny up. Nate fired the revolver and his own 9mm, but again, he could not find a clear shot.

Promptly, Sully grabbed Jenny up into his arms and carried her away from the ravine. Nate heard both guns click empty and he jumped away, following behind his mentor and his new friend. Or enemy. He wasn't quite sure yet.


End file.
